“I know, Momma. I know.” I hug her to my side and make my way to the back of the trailer where her bedroom is. I tilt my head over to Finn before I close the partition.
“You can either take a seat or wait outside. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Sure,” he mumbles.
I watch his eyes take in our tiny couch, knowing there’s no way he’ll be comfortable there. I expect him to rush outside, but instead, he looks at the kitchen and stays put.
I don’t have time to placate his need for comfort since I want to make sure Mom is in the safety of her bed. I don’t want to worry that she may end up outside while being this messed up. Not that she would go out willingly on her own, but I’ll rest easier knowing she’s safe, sleeping it off.
She doesn’t complain when I remove her shirt and use a wet towel to wipe the day’s sweat off her skin. Once she’s clean enough, I pull a camisole over her head and help her into the bed.
“He’s very handsome,” she says all of a sudden, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Hmm,” I mumble, straightening up her bedsheet.
“Do you like him?”
“I like him enough.”
“I think you like him more than enough,” she singsongs.
“Hmm.”
“Just be careful, baby. First loves have a way of hurting more than the others,” she adds with a cautious tone to her slurred words. Her eyes look up at the heavens, and whatever is on her mind steals the little smile on her face, turning it into a saddened frown. “I miss your father,” she laments softly, finally revealing what ails her.
“I know, Momma.”
“I was thinking that maybe next weekend we can go visit him,” she adds expectantly, and I hate to be the one to damper the small flicker of hope in her eyes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumble under my breath, knowing Dad still hasn’t added her name back on his visitor’s list.
Last time I went to the big house to see him, Dad was still adamant that Mom shouldn’t be in an environment that could only trigger her. Although they haven’t been together in over a decade, he loves her just as fiercely, and wouldn’t want to do anything that could harm her stability.
Like we had any after he was locked away.
“Yes, of course. You’re right,” she replies disappointedly, turning to her side, away from me.
“Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow, I’ll come over and have an early dinner with you before going to work. I’ll even bring you some fried chicken from Mable’s Diner, the one you like so much. Does that sound good?”
She gives me a sheepish nod, but I know fried food isn’t going to make things better for her. I don’t think anything will, really. Her mental state, combined with a broken heart, just leaves too many scars for her frail mind to overcome.
Life hasn’t been fair to her, but hopefully, the tides will change in our favor. I’ve been working my butt off at school to make it so. I’m going to do everything in my power to change our lives. To get us out of this shithole of a town and give her the proper care she needs. Dad had tried his best, but I’ll make sure to succeed where he failed.
I wait for a few minutes until I hear her breathing simmer down into a soft pace. Once I’m sure she’s out cold, I step outside her room, ready to get pretty boy out of here. God knows he must be counting the minutes for us to leave. However, I can’t help the smile that crests my lips when I see him washing my mother’s dirty dishes, looking right at home amongst all the mess.
“I never imagined you were so well house-trained,” I tease, behind him.
“I umm… I mean… is this okay? I just couldn’t keep still,” he stutters in embarrassment, placing another plate on the rack.
“I see that. Knock yourself out, quarterback.”
He throws me a meek grin and continues on with his task.
“How is she?”
“Okay. Okay for her, at least. Luckily it’s not one of her worst days.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“What isn’t wrong with her?” I sigh out. “She’s sick. Body, mind, and soul. But if you want to get technical, she suffers from bipolar disorder according to the doctor’s diagnosis.”
The confused look that shadows his features, trying to make sense of my explanation, is priceless. His forehead is wrinkled,